Page 146 of The Fake Divination Offense
A low whine is his response, his eyes fighting to open, his breath slowing.
“You love me,” he mumbles. “Tell me.”
I bite his neck, tongue the spot as he wilts. “I love you. I love you so much, Bel.”
“And?”
“And,” I nuzzle his jaw, “you’re mine.”
His jaw stretches as he smiles. “Yours. Forever.”
Forever.
It isn’t a flippant hope now.
It’s a fact.
Morning News: “Welcome toOne Shot, your number-one source for the latest in pro rawball news. I’m your host, Diamanda Blacktalon. With me today, after his long journey to find the eternal flame of the Lizard People, is Vaknox, now the Reigning King of the Lizard People of Tesh, Purveyor of Fire and Ash, He of the Sun, Chosen of Chaxloakka. Vaknox, I cannot begin to tell you how glad I am to have you back.”
*lizard hissing noises*
“Aw, I missed you, too! I know you’ve kept abreast of everything going on in the rawball world, but there’s one thing you wanted to talk about in particular, isn’t there?”
*lizard hissing noises*
“Exactly—Orok Monroe not only helped stop a Galaxrien cult ritual during the rawball championship game, it now turns out that he’s funding an entire new mental health program with Thrive Children. Swoon! There is no way for him to be any sexier, let me tell you.”
*lizard hissing noises*
“Oh, I know, Vaknox, I know—he’s locked down! Can you believe our own Beauty has been half demon this whole time? I have to ask: Doyouthink he’s really the descendant of Galaxrien Vossen?”
*lizard hissing noises*
“Wow, Vaknox, well said. Well said indeed. We’ve got to go to a break, but romance is blooming on the Hellhounds for a second time: superstar offensive rogue Marlow Keel is dating team captain and defensive tank Aaron Harsaf! An in-depth look when we come back!”
Chapter Eighteen
Five Months Later
“You’re sure this is the place?” Bel bounces his heel in the passenger seat’s footwell.
“It’s the address Ilbryen gave us.”
I slow as the house comes up on our right. Plenty of spaces on the road are open to park, but as I pull into one, Bel flaps his hands with a panicked screech.
“Not yet! No—circle the block again. One more time.”
“You’ve said that for the last three times, sweetheart.” I obey though, drifting away from the curb and rounding the block, giving his thigh a firm squeeze where I’ve been holding it since we got in the rental car an hour ago.
He sinks into the seat, gnawing on his lip until I lift my hand to tap his chin.
“Hey. I quite like that lip. Be nice to it.”
He pops it out at me in a bratty pout. But that pout dissolves quickly, leaving him with a bouncing leg and the flustered concern that’s been growing larger over the past few weeks.
There’s been no more Galaxrien cultist activity. No rumors, no rituals. The official church of Galaxrien Vossen reached out, wanting to meet their lord’s progeny. Bel politely declined, and they’ve respected his wishes so far. On the other side of things, the Urzoth church quietly pulled out as his sponsor for next season, but Bel seemed relieved they were the ones to cut that tie; he doesn’t need them anymore.
While none of that means all threats are gone, Ilbryen felt, afterthe failed ritual that got broadcast all over the world and the arrest of Tem and his closest cultists, that we could take some calculated risks with Bel’s safety. I’m not about to lower my own vigilance, hell no; he’s still wearing the pearl safety necklace, too.
